Little Red Book
by Anthiena
Summary: A series of mostly unconnected one-shots. Now Playing: The Gate Keeper. Deleted scene from an upcoming crossover. Must see to believe!
1. Before the Rest Thalia 1

Little Red Book  
By Anthiena

Story Note: I don't own ANYTHING. This is a series of one shots, some heavily drafted, some ruminations, some story tryouts, etc, etc... translation: My own "Star Shots". I'd been thinking on doing this for a while. When I was in middle school (which was eight years ago now) I had a little notebook bound in red foil. I would put little story ideas, notes, sketches and the like in it. Now that I'm all grown up, I have several notebooks, a few sketch books and still a number of ideas. Some I will never do. Some I will. Some are just little snatches of music that are ever unfinished. I have long lost that little red book. I will have this as my new "little red book."

Story Note: Thought experiment-you know, like the one that produced Ursula Le Guin's Left Hand of Darkness? I decided to bring a little character I've been musing over onto the wide net instead of a draft in my mailbox, you know? This, of course, is inspired by Kindred Spirits.... and also Brave New World by A. Huxley along others, I'm sure. The facts used here on genetics are true. Eventually, installing knowledge (ala Matrix or Ghost in the Shell) in your brain will be possible, though it's only in it's "plausible" stage. The earliest theories is what's going on in science now, but it will be done... eventually. Thalia is the muse of comedy and the grace of good humor. Thalia's ghost outfit is an homage to/ripoff of The Crack, AKA Mind of a Hero from Tavelya Ra. She's reposting it on DeviantArt, so search her and watch her today! Her manner of dress and attitude is actually inspired by two things: Jazz Fenton and something named below. I'm going to assume that not many actually know about Danielle.

* * *

_1. Before the Rest (Thalia)_

Genome sequencers. Super computers. The hours upon hours of stealthy surveillance. The opening flower of a plan. It was aching and bittersweet to behold-beautiful in it's ingenuity, bitter in the fact that he'd only held it as back up. The fail-safe, the last resort. He was admitting that there was something that he couldn't do, if only to himself and perhaps one other. It had become very plain with the destruction of the Ectxo-Suit that Danny would never come over to his way of thinking. He was willing to throw him away if his sister had proven competent and loyal-she had proven competent for a normal human, but not loyal, not to him, Vlad Masters.

Something had snapped with Jazz's betrayal. It had stung him more deeply than he would ever admit to anyone and now... now he was bringing his plan, his B-plan into full effect. Valerie had been a part of it, it had been in effect since nearly the beginning. Those children would never know what useful pawns they had been, even in their failure. Even in their eventual deaths. The machine was, in theory, operational. The beginnings of Danny's DNA was being analyzed and sequenced. When the sequencers finished their job, when the tanks were filled and a perfect clone occupied one, the original would die. His hunter would die. They would pose nothing but problems afterwards, with Danny's inconvenient scruples and Valerie's unthinking vengenge.

It was suiting, perhaps. The only problem was that there were pieces missing yet. He needed to see if a "perfect" clone was even possible. There were only two ghost-human hybrids in the world and they were rivals. This, for the purposes of his experiment, was unfortunate. He thought of using himself, but it made him cold. Who was to say that the copy wouldn't try to replace him, as he was planning to do with the clone of Daniel? No, a copy of himself would not suffice... but wouldn't a greater challenge be to form a synthesis of them both...?

The challenge was one he immediately relished. It was quite the change from his usual. It didn't have to technically lead anywhere. He did a number of sequences, a genome from Daniel here, a sequence from Vlad there... there were fourteen made. Two of the clones stabilized, but the others were horrifying-looking messes that didn't last long or ones he placed back into the same tanks that created them. It reminded him why cloning was not yet practiced and he was on the very cutting _edge_ of technology. The two were not mental giants by far and large-no worldly experience and all that.

The first was a male, aged to early adolescence, roughly thirteen. A compilation of memories for him to choose from was downloaded into his brain. He choose wrongly and attacked. That clone was destroyed rather quickly. The second was female, aged to roughly sixteen. "Mere" knowledge was put into her mind, though several bits of "special" programming was placed into her mind along with some fail-safe programming. This was part of the experiment-how much programming was needed, how much was too much, what type, et cetera. Mathematics, sciences, a basic understanding of human psychology, some humanity studies that he couldn't resist. He had considerable fun choosing a few great works in literature and film for her to remember.

The morning of her awakening, He reflected how this one was different. She was 55% his child, 45% Fenton legacy, most of Jack's genetic material removed. Some had proven useful-after all, every human only had 1% of difference in genes between one another. Her human form was elegant. Tall, lithe, dark hair like his own before the accident. Her eyes were a mix between Daniel's and his own and her chin a delicate point. Her first action was to look. To percieve... her astonishingly familiar eyes found him. "Ahh..." She spoke and was astounded by her own voice, her eyes filled with wonder.

"Young lady...?" He had not named her. Not yet. Somehow... none of the names seemed right... not yet.

She laughed. "I'm awake! I'm not dreaming anymore!" She exclaimed. Her voice was a brisk, resonant mezzo-soprano bordering on coloralta, an odd amalgram of his and Danny's voice, yet not.

"Ah, so you were aware when you were in stasis? Interesting." None of the others had been, even when they'd had more than basic programing.

"Stasis..." She took a wobbly step forward, looking unsure, but smiling as she took the next two and turned around, seeing the tank she'd been born from. "A cloning tank? Of whom am I clone of?" She spoke, looking more serious.

"Myself and another." He answered.

She seemed to consider this. She thought a bit. "Do I have a name... father?" She asked hesitantly.

He considered. _A name_... one came to him."Thalia. You shall be Thalia Masters." Thalia was a muse and a grace and this girl child seemed rather elegant.

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Thalia... it's a good name." She spoke finally. She looked down. "What is this?" She asked. "It doesn't look like ordinary clothing."

"A biofeedback suit, made of materials from the Ghost Zone. It forms to the user, but has no predefined form. Using technology, it can be forced to become the proper attire for the wearer. In laymen's terms: a piece of clothing that grows with you." He explained.

It was a plain, black body suit, with a thin, white, belt-like section at her waist and white at her upper chest and upper arms, white at her feet like boots. Vlad saw white down her back as well in a sharp triangle shape going almost to the small of her back as she turned around. "I feel a... brightness somewhere, in my mind. In my dreams, I would touch it and I become a refraction of myself... something different." She spoke. "What is this? Should I make contact with it?"

It took him a moment to realize what she refered to. Footage showed Danny speaking of cold and personal memory recalled heat, but the concepts were similar. Something within each that was the same. "Please do. It is merely your other half." He spoke, smiling. Her ghost half. It was present...!

A band of purple-red light appeared at her waist and its travel did not change the body suit much. It became a dress, her legs bare, but a white cloak with a cowl hung from her shoulders and the top of the dress was sleeveless and black save for a sort of white cloth collar piece that went around her upper torso, shaped into a thin vaguely v-shape. Her other features changed, her hair pale like his currently was in human form, her eyes glowing red, but not the whole pupil, only that which had color in human form. Her ears were pointed, her skin blue, though her lips were ruby red. Her mouth opened in astonishment, fangs revealed, which she felt with a gloved hand in amazement. "This is my... other face?"

Such odd turns of expression. "Yes... I have much to show you, my dear." It would be time to see if she was functional...

Proper clothes were in order. He brought her to a random selection of clothes. He had no idea what teenagers nowadays were really wearing, nor what she might possibly like. He was surprised when she chose black slacks and a loose white quarter-sleeve shirt with a large oval collar with some simple embroidery and glass beads, which she half-tucked into the slacks. It reminded him vaguely of the things his mother had left behind in Wisconsin. How old had he been...? Ten? Eleven? He shook it out of his consciousness for the moment. She shrugged at the simple flats, but put them on. She didn't bother asking how he knew her correct sizes.

She seemed to relax somewhat with the new clothing. The next few days would show how she was, how well and how much of the programming actually took. First impressions were good, but he needed to see if the reality would match. The evening from there went almost... dully. She was quiet, seemingly unsure how to address him, staring at everything new, even the silverware. When she tasted food, her eyes went wide and she smiled in delight. "Ah! That must be the sense of taste!" She exclaimed. "It tastes pretty!"

He smiled at that. "I think you mean _delicious_, my dear. _Pretty_ refers to sight, _delicious_ usually refers to tasting food."

"Ah, I understand." She murmured in reply.

The morning revealed more. Though thousands of words and their definitions were in her mind, her use of vocabulary was a bit... off. It could easily be passed off as eccentricity, but she did it relatively often. Not a big deal. An IQ test showed college-age intelligence, as per his programming. An introduction to a computer saw her create better logorythms for his new hologram program, increasing running speed. After she saw him doodling absently, she was able to produce an interesting-looking silhoette of him. Quick learning... that would be useful. Next was combat.

Flight and intangibility seemed to come naturally to her, though ecto-manipulation came harder. That had been true of himself, so he didn't think much of that. When she was able to handle it well enough, he decided to put the "special" programming into play. A holographic copy of Jack Fenton appeared in the training room and Thalia's reaction was immediate: attack. Her face seemed to go slack and her eyes became completely red. He called out one of the code words... but to no avail. "Computer, shut down hologram." He commanded.

She stopped. "Wha'... wha' juss... happen...?" She slurred, seeming to be coming awake.

He spoke another one of the code words. Nothing. Another and another and they failed. This should have worked... until he came to the last one, the one for sleep. She reverted to human and fell to the ground. This was dangerous... he put her to bed and did not sleep well that night. She was stable, she was not horrifically malformed, she was intelligent and friendly, if unusually shy. A quick learner... but as the sun rose, he realized that one particular part of the special programming had not manifested-she never referred to him as anything. Not Vlad, not Mr. Masters, not... not father... When she came down, she seemed a little frightened. "I can't recall part of last night... this disturbs me greatly." She spoke nervously.

"What am I to you?" He asked suddenly. It was very calm.

"What do you mean? You are... you are..." She hesitated, as if trying to remember. "...my creator. One of the contributors to my DNA, the one who made sure I was made properly. That is very kind, seeing my fellows."

"Father, Thalia. I am your _father_." He spoke evenly. "Does that not mean something to you?"

She paused. "Father... no, I am sorry. It means nothing to me." Something seemed to dawn on her. "There is this connection I sense to you, almost like the connection to my other self. A warm, safe, tender feeling. It makes me feel happy to have you near and to have your approval. If this is what you mean... than yes. It means quite a bit!"

This... this was unusual. Why had some programming taken but not other parts? "We will need testing." He spoke.

All that day, he plugged in all the data he had and waited for the computer, which he had affectionately named _Maddie_, to return the results. Two came up: a gene inactive in Vlad was active in her. This was not alarming in and of itself. It was one gene. No known conditions or genetic disorders were associated with it, in fact. The behaviors, however, turned up something quite confounding: Autism, a particular form: Asperger's Syndrome. The hallmarks of the mental disorder matched almost precisely what he had observed in the clone. Those known to suffer from the disorder ironically included one of the people he had stolen from.

He made a decision. He found her at her sketching, only it was a self portrait at the moment. She looked between the mirror and the drawing often and she was in ghost form. The drawing was... fragmented, parts of it already done of her in human form. The effect was disturbing. He stood and watched her complete the drawing, admiring the talent. She looked at it critically. "It needs ink, I think." She held it to the light. "Yes, ink will make it contrast better."

"I'll need you to come with me, Thalia. There's something in the lab we must do."

She didn't look surprised. "It's those tests, isn't it?" She spoke softly. "I'm going to sleep again, aren't I?" Vlad remained silent. "I'm not going to wake up this time, am I?"

He hesitated. "No, Thalia. You're not." He finally admitted.

They didn't speak after that. He led her to a chamber far beneath his home. After a few explosions, this was made as his "safe room" for delicate experiments or abandoned ones, like her forebears. An extra pod, empty stood in the lab. She climbed into it without a fight. She didn't smile as he shut it. "Good night and good bye, father." She spoke simply.

He pressed a button but did not answer. It filled up with a special liquid that would not drown a human. It had been developed for deep sea diving, but it suited his purpose here. When the stasis was finalized, he fled the chamber and went to his computers, editing his interface program. It was glitchy, but it worked well enough for a prototype. He would deal with it. He called up a program he had not used since Thalia's awakening. "Computer, run the footage again, sequence 146C. Stop. Analyze." He spoke tersely.

That night, he came across the drawing. He picked it up. Thalia had signed it as "Harlequin" oddly. _Where had _that_ name came from? Doesn't matter now, does it?_ He reflected numbly.

* * *

_One year later..._

Danny sighed. The one day he was at school for a field trip and the trip was to a traveling art exhibit? "Man, this is going to be so _boring_." He grumbled.

"At least we aren't in class, man." Tucker grinned. "I think there's a few pieces you'll really like."

"Whatever man. You are going to be blown away by this lady's stuff."

The framed pictures were a bit dull and confusing. "Why are these even famous?" Danny complained.

"Art infidel. I actually paid attention in art class. This is known as Impressionism. They take what's really there and mix it with emotions and impressions about what they're drawing." Sam pointed out with a smile. "See how you can tell what these are about almost right away by how they're messed up? Some of these have been banned in certain countries because a lot of them are really political."

Danny merely shrugged. "Not my thing, I guess."

They passed by a few reproductions of a painting of soup cans. He shook his head until he came to an area marked as "Masters Collection: Harlequin". His ghost sense went off and he saw a familiar man smiled archly at him. "Aren't these inkings wonderful? There are about two dozen, but they are wonderfully deconstructed."

"What's so special about these? -and how did you get out?" Danny asked in an edgy voice after a double take.

The ghost was a pale man who'd brushed his hair in a way to cover his ears. He looked mostly normal otherwise except for his odd teeth. Ghost Writer chuckled. "The sentence was suspended when someone I knew higher up told him to release me. All is well, I hold no grudge. These Harlequin drawings are known as such because they are labled under that pen name. It's not likely the artist's real name, but it's special in two ways. These are the artist's perception of the very infamous Plasmius or rather Vlad Masters and they are the only known clear portraits of his ghost form as well. The artist is thought to be this woman here. It appears to be unfinished. While most of the rest of this level of detail are inked, the rest are not. They caused quite the splash and scandal, as you can imagine!"

Danny took a close look at them. Some were of Vlad, one detailed Skulker apparently fixing a weapon Danny had never seen, two were studies of Fright Knight of all things and one unbelievably was of Jazz, asleep. "Could this have been Vlad?" He asked. "My sister didn't meet anybody in Vlad's house." He stated.

"No, though the artist is likely a ghost. Look at this one. It's been nicknamed "Shatter" due to very easily seen reasons. It's of an unknown woman who bears a striking resemblance to two rather infamous ghosts." He pointed to one.

Danny looked at it and immediately went pale. The young woman in the picture did look astonishingly familiar; she was Jazz's age apparently and had a passive smile on her human face, but a familiar leer on the other. He felt sick. "I think you're right... I don't think they'll ever find the artist, either. I think she died."

Ghost Writer looked intrigued. "Why do you say that?"

"...it's a story that's not all mine to tell." Danny replied numbly. "Just... a feeling."

He was wrong.

* * *

Next up: A fic fragment detailing a meeting between Jazz and a certain ghost... only the form isn't quite the same...


	2. Orrery

Little Red Book  
By: Anthiena  
Disclaimer: DON'T OWN.  
Note: This story is up for adoption. This is a try at a fanfiction where I just couldn't think past a certain point. Though I have ideas-Clockwork's power being tied to watches and time pieces, for example-I still can't think of what the hell to do with it. The parts with Phantom I absolutely enjoyed writing-but the parts with Jazz and Clockwork just broke my brain trying to make it work. I cannot, but perhaps one other can. The word "Orrery" refers to an astrological clock, one not used since the middle ages. Thank you, J A Seazer. :D Enjoy. This was actually inspired by a WTFWonder fic, believe it or not. This was actually written waay back in March.

Chapter 2: Orrery

Few in the timeline that he had been imprisoned in would know him for who and what he was and the destruction he would bring-if allowed. Only one knew and fully understood the potential of this being, this creature-but then again, he knows everything. It was this being that was the prisoner's keeper and it was this being who watched as his means of imprisonment-an odd canister-began to fail.

There was a thousand-no more-possibilities of what could-would-happen. The keeper's form shifted to an elder's and he held his staff out at an odd angle. He had only a short collection of moments at hand. His form became that of a child's and he plunged his staff into the clockface on his chest as the imprisonment began to give under terrific pressure. Both the canister and its keeper glowed brightly.

When the light dissipated, a singular ghost stood for the first time in the now empty chamber in only Clockwork knew how long, with only gears and various clocks for company. He didn't laugh in insanity or triumph nor did he gloat over his newfound freedom. He stood utterly still, his glowing red eyes not focused, his powerfully built body tense with readiness and yet held loosely. The ticking all around him was nearly deafening. He finally focused on a pile of clothing and sauntered to it, enjoying every movement; _glorious_.

He scowled at the pile, uncertain, kicking at it. Everything the Keeper of Time wire except the clocks were on the floor. the ghost it all belonged to was long gone. The heat from his hair seemed to caress him while he thought. He would need to find out the date, what had changed along with how things were for both hybrids.

So much to do.

* * *

Jazz was not expecting to hear someone hit the floor of her dormroom with an audible thud and groan. Her little dormer was on the second floor and she shared it with an English major who seemed to be constantly out of the dorm except to sleep. Jazz was at her desk, typing up a paper for one of her core classes with a mug of nuked instant coffee beside her. She scooted back her chair, stood up and turned around, turning red. It was a young man with longish dark red hair that was nearly auburn and a dusting of freckles on a pale face, blushing scarlet. "Not to sound forward, but would you kindly borrow me some clothes?" He had a gravelly tenor with an edge of nervousness to it.

"Who are you? How'd you get in? Why are you naked?" She asked in a rush.

He looked exasperated. "For now, let's pretend it's a prank gone horribly wrong being pulled on me."

Jazz went to a closet, grabbed and tossed him a shirt and jeans, keeping her back turned. "Those belonged to my ex. Now who are you?" She repeated.

The young man zipped and cleared his throat. "For now, call me Zane; Zane Carradine. No relation to the famous ones, sadly."

She turned around, curious. "So how did you really get here?"

"A friend of Danny Phantom's named Clockwork. Something terrible has happened and he sealed his power and memories into a mostly human form, making _me_ most unfortunately what's left of Clockwork. I'd probably only be able to set off your parents' devices with what little power I do have." He explained calmly.

She tilted her head. "Well, shouldn't I call you Clockwork, then?"

"No, absolutely not." He replied quickly. "I'm effectively human at the moment and that name grabs too much attention. In any case..." He spoke grimly. "I can't remember much compared to a human, let alone Clockwork. Your brother should be able to recognize my voice."

Jazz picked up a phone and dialed. "Hey dad, is Danny still around? Thanks, I'll try his cell." She hung up and dialed again as Zane looked around her dorm room. "Danny, it's Jazz. Can you do me a favor? Talk to this guy and see if you recognize his voice? Jazz handed the phone to the calm young man.

"The thermos didn't hold, Danny." Jazz went immediately pale, knowing then that he was for real. "In the flesh literally so to speak. I cannot help. Not only is it not allowed, but I don't currently have my abilities nor much of my knowledge. Do what you must." Zane handed the phone back to her.

"Danny?"

"He's not lying, Jazz. I want you to be careful... there's no... there's no resetting things this time. Stay with him, I gotta find Danni, she could be in danger too." He spoke in rushed tones and hung up.

"Nice talking to you, Dan." She commented dryly, hanging up and putting down the cordless phone. "What now?" She asked the remnant.

* * *

That the timeline had changed was no longer question but fact. He checked his reflection in a store window to make sure his current form was holding-human looks were called for at the moment and he was confident of his shapeshifting, though he knew he was rusty from his imprisonment. The downtown area of the town he'd arrived in was busy and vibrant, not quite crowded but far from empty. Nobody of not had noticed him, though he'd gotten a few sly smiles from women.

Far as anyone could tell and as far as his own opinions went, they saw an attractive man about mid-twenties with wild black hair barely constrained by a ponytail, a trimmed beard, cold cerulean blue eyes, a muscular frame and wearing an unpleasant snarl for an expression. The clothes he'd lifted included sturdy boots, jeans, a white muscle shirt and a white hoodie with black accents. He smirked and found that he looked _much_ better.

Some personality traits had remained with him better than others. The timeline had changed _dramatically_. He'd picked up a little news via word of mouth and what he'd found had astonished him. It had been six years-six years! Vlad had been MIA for most of it as well and presumed dead, though no body had ever been found. Nor would there be.

He had much to do and none of it could go forward yet, not with what little he had. Oh, he'd show his past self just how _inescapable_ he was... but his aims were different now. His past was gone, his future would never happen and the only reason he still existed was one one of Clockwork's little medallions. All he had now was this other past but he still had much he could accomplish. He'd see his other self's life in ruins. He'd hear his other self's screams.

It _was_ inevitable.


	3. Resolute

Little Red Book  
By: Anthiena  
Disclaimer: Well, I'm not a guy, so I couldn't _possibly_ be Butch Hartman, now could I?  
Note: I actually started a fic about this two years ago in my early days in the fandom, but it was crappy. I restarted the idea from scratch and from a very different angle than I originally thought of. Enjoy. The non-ending is on purpose.

_Resolute_

Vlad Masters stood in his lab, for all intents and purposes, staring at a corpse. He vaguely wished for a cigarette, but something stopped him from moving. He wore a deep, thoughtful frown and knelt next to the already cooling body. He phased his hands and arms through the body, lifting out a pale, translucent almost mirror image of the one still on the ground. Just as he'd predicted. He placed it in a still-functioning pod and pondered what to do.

He'd have to take care of it, he thought calmly. The two friends had taken the clone away from the scene, all sobbing like the children they were, but what would they-what _could_ they do? What could they even prove?

Exactly nothing.

He recalled the rage he felt as the perfect clone had dissolved into nothing, reaching out in confusion. The girl had lifted her hand to defend her progenitor, but could do nothing as Vlad killed the only other stable hybrid in existence with his own hands. The horror in the clone's eyes didn't even touch him. Nothing at the moment seemed all that important-not even his desire for Jack's death and Maddie's hand.

It was odd how calm he felt. Distant, even. He heaved a sigh and turned to a pressing matter. The body... would he destroy it? Bury it somewhere lonely, never to be found in a human lifetime? Ditch it to be found in Amity Park, an unsolvable case? Choices, choices. In the end, he destroyed it and scattered whatever ashes there were in the Ghost Zone far, far away from either the Amity Park or Wisconsin portals.

It was the most silent funeral he'd ever attended.

They would want to do something, but what could they really do? He went about his life, as if nothing had changed, when everything had. His business was doing well, his ghostly pursuits were fruitful and yet, nothing seemed to affect him on a personal level. Something had twisted in the moment before he'd murdered him. Something that had begun twenty years ago and had concluded in the Fenton's demise.

He wasn't surprised when he responded to an alert in the middle of the night from his lab, only to find a young red-headed woman wearing armor aiming shakily at him. "Don't bother. You aren't a killer." He told her.

"You're a murderer. You killed _Danny_; why?!" Her voice cracked.

It was as if the lethargy that had been affecting him suddenly lifted. "What of it, Jasmine? With his abilities, it would've been sooner or later that one ghost or another would have ended it! I wanted him to be alive as my apprentice, not dead on the floor! I could have protected him. Did he really think he could spurn me so many times without me reacting? Did he think I had no heart?" His voice rose, but he spoke again quietly. "Now we'll never know. His remnant wouldn't have memories the way he died."

"...remnant? What do you mean, remnant?" She spoke in surprise.

"Hmph. Like you would be interested in what I'm doing." He replied caustically.

"What do you mean?!" She repeated, frightened, yet holding her ground.

"I will tell you, but you must do something for me in return. Deactivate that ridiculous armor-" Vlad Masters told her, a smile growing over his features as he approached her. "...and perhaps I can do something with that remnant."

"What could you possibly want from me?" She grew suspicious and deactivated the Peeler.

"You'll find out soon enough." He said as he leaned in close.

Somewhere in Wisconsin, a teenage girl screamed. Not a living soul heard her.


	4. The Gate Keeper

Little Red Book  
By: Anthiena  
Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN  
Note: A deleted scene for an upcoming crossover fanfic. I wanted to show it off. :D It's a cross over with Revolutionary Girl Utena.

Story 4: Gatekeeper

Vlad awoke as if from a decent night's sleep, though he knew that he'd just been in the Ghost Zone. That in itself was a rare thing, so he knew the Ghost Writer was pulling some serious strings. He had chosen the right person to go to for his wish. If he could do this... He sat up, feeling dizzy and looked down at himself. Blue pajamas, his hair loose and his head pounding. He tried to remember if he'd just gone home, but he didn't recognise the room he was in.

_Vlad Masters awoke in a room not his own_  
_Remembered things he could not have known_  
_A professorship in the sciences at Ohtori_  
_An honor of course that everyone could see_

He smiled. The Ghost Writer was doing as promised. He got up and stretched when he heard someone knocking at his door. He went to it and opened it. "Good morning." Greeted a toffee-skinned man with dark-brown hair and green eyes; he had long hair as well in a ponytail and wore slacks, a red western-style shirt and a small black bindi mark on his forehead.

_Student dean..._ came the ghost's voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're the student liason, but I can't seem to remember your name..."  
"Quite alright, we weren't properly introduced. I'm Akio Ohtori." The young man smiled.

_ Who is not quite what he seems, take it from me!_

"Charmed, I'm sure. I'm Vlad Master, the new science professor if you don't recall. I was quite surprised to be approached for the science chair."  
"As was anyone else, but it's a great honor to have you here." Akio shrugged. "I'm only the interim student dean while the real one is out sick, but if you need to speak to me about the students, go ahead. If a student has an issue, I won't hesitate to talk to you, either. I better go and let you get ready. Ta."

Wait... hadn't it been _July_...? -and that student dean...he had no accent that Vlad could discern for the man having an Indian appearence and a Japanese name. It stank to high heaven, even without the Ghost Writer's admonition.

"Where I need to be, huh?" He muttered, going to a dresser.

"Yes." In a mirror was the Ghost Writer. "When and where you needed to be. Don't worry, you acted mostly normal over the last few months, the only thing out of the ordinary being that you did not visit Amity Park proper and that you accepted the professorship."

Vlad had gotten offers, though he'd turned them all down before. "So what's going on here? Since you know so much..."

"It's the week before school. Teachers go over their material for the semester and lists of students. Both Fenton children made in on scholarships; school district lines were redrawn and Fenton Works was just outside the line for Casper High and the choice was between a poor-quality school and Ohtori Gakuen's sister school, Kore Academy."

"Daniel got into this place? Isn't it a bit exclusive?" Vlad argued.

The ghost smiled. "Oh, yes. One of the top schools in the country, in fact. It would seem that both Fentons have an affinity for the sciences; Danny has a very good working knowledge of astronomy, trigonometry and physics. His sister on the other hand has excellent grades all around and a very good knowledge of psychology for being self-taught. His teachers were quite amazed by his test results but not hers."

"So nobody else can hear you, can they?" Vlad observed.

"Oh, some possibly could, that school is a very unique place. The Pierced Maiden and her guardians could sense me, but not hear me, not unless my power touches them. They are already aware of a meddler, but they don't know who it is. They've been playing this game for centuries, if not millenia." The ghost informed him.

"Great." Vlad muttered. "So what now?"

"Prepare yourself, Vlad Masters... and beware the flowers."

"Must you be so oblique?" The hybrid groused, annoyed as the ghost's image flickered into nothing. "_Flowers_-! Who _are_ these people?"


End file.
